


that's what you get for waking up in vegas

by InHerOwnWorld



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: A bunch of really bad life choices, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Increasingly Awkward (hilarious) Situations, Romantic Comedy, There is not enough wine in the world for Judy to forget her problems, slight AU, yes the title is based off of Katy Perry's song
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2018-11-17 04:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11268246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InHerOwnWorld/pseuds/InHerOwnWorld
Summary: Waking up naked in a hotel bathtub is not the strangest thing to happen to Judy Hopps.However, waking up with a wedding ring and an equally naked fox lying on top of her is certainly a new experience.





	1. Prologue

Judy Hopps officially hates being hungover.

Not that any mammal in their right mind enjoys being hungover, but the physical hatred that wriggles in her stomach is intense, weighing down on her and making her wake-up process that much worse. She can’t even remember the last time she got this bad. The Carrots Day Festival in high school? Her littermate’s bachelorette party? Both instances from very, _very_ long ago, back when she had yet to discover her limitations. Alcohol hasn’t betrayed her like this in quite some time.

To think she thought she had a high tolerance.

Nausea simmers in the back of her throat, prompting her to stretch her aching body and at least _attempt_ to force herself to function. Despite unpleasant lethargy coiling in her limbs, the idea of puking all over herself disgusts her enough to want to be productive.  She needs to get up and shower…find out where she is, what she drank last night (as well as pointlessly vow to never consume alcohol again)…and conduct damage control on texts that she most likely sent to her ex-lovers.

Easy enough, right?

Judy makes her first bad decision of the morning (you know, aside from _blacking out_ ) and opens her red-rimmed eyes to a ceiling filled with fluorescent lights.

Funny how even the most straight-laced, goal-driven bunny cop (or the _only_ bunny cop, for that matter) is prone to stupidity and a never-ending circle of bad decisions.

“Butter sticks,” she curses, squinting her eyes shut at the harsh beams. Based on the bright lights, white walls, and smell of antiseptics, the bunny figures she’s in a bathroom of some sort. Most likely a hotel.

Refraining from blinding herself again, Judy decides to take inventory of how beat-up her body is.

Her tail is being crushed, for one. She is currently laying on her back in a cramped space…perhaps a bathtub? It must be a tub meant for mammals her size. The porcelain is hard and causes her body to ache in discomfort. A chill breezes through her fur; judging by the humming sound from above, there are vents blowing out cool air.

The coolness brings her to another point of realization: she is completely naked, with no blankets, clothes, or sheets to cover her. Judging from the sticky feel and smell of her grey fur, she must have spilled drinks on herself last night, or bumped into someone else who did.

Judy tries to recall her reason for being here. She knows she left Zootopia for a weekend to get away from being a meter maid. She knows she was supposed to meet her friend, Fru-fru, for a Girls Night Out in Paws Vegas. She knows that Fru-Fru had offered to pay for a five-star hotel suite, and that when Judy had arrived to her booked room, there had been copious amounts of wine bottles scattered on the kitchen counter.

After that, her memory fuzzes out. Fru-fru had called insisting that Judy pre-gamed until her arrival, which would be delayed due to some… _issues_ with Daddy’s “business”. Issues that Judy never asks about, because she is a police officer and police officers should not be fraternizing with mafia bosses, or their daughters that attend the same support group (Shopaholics Anonymous).

Judy remembers starting with wine. She had still been lucid at that point. Afterwards, however, she had somehow ended up at a bar. From there, Judy can only guess. Probably took a couple of shots to ease her social anxiety and overall awkwardness. Probably met up with Fru-Fru—who most likely encouraged Judy to drink even _more,_ all the while paying for the strongest, most expensive beverages on the menu.

Probably blacked out at some point. Probably got carried to her hotel room by Raymond—because no matter _where_ Fru-Fru goes, she _always_ has a bodyguard. Said bodyguard has a soft spot for Judy, at least so she thinks. He laughs at her jokes and gives her a secretive smile whenever she visits, whereas usually the burly polar bear holds off on any sort of emotional expression.

 _I’ll have to thank him later_ , Judy thinks to herself, mind cogs beginning to whirl and function. Okay. Vegas. Morning after. Hungover. She’s dealt with much worse. She’s dealt with Policy Academy training and the post-graduation party, where she had out-drank mammals ten times her size and had to board a train for Zootopia the next day. If she can survive that—this should be nothing.

Her stomach still feels heavy with nausea. She decides it’s best for her to sit up at a slow pace as to avoid disturbing her body.

As she rolls herself forward, she finds the motion blocked by a heavy weight.

 _Wow. This hangover is worse than I thought_. Groaning, the rabbit really tries to push herself. _On the count of three, I’ll bounce up._

Except, even with the countdown and the new motivation to physically exert herself, she still feels pinned down.

_What in tarnation…_

Something’s…off. And it’s not her hangover. There’s not just a breeze coming from a vent—there is a mammal _breathing_ on her chest. The heavy weight she thought was her upset stomach is a real, actual weight lying on top of her.

 _Crud. I had sex with a buck last night_.

Except, it doesn’t _smell_ like a buck. Rabbits may not be known for having excellent noses, but this scent is very distinct from normal bunnies. Musky, thick, really, _really_ strong. How the hell had Judy not noticed before? The smell all but suffocates her nostrils, and causes her nose to twitch in uncontrollable spasms.

Hangover be damned. There is a mammal laying on top of her naked body, and she needs to ignore the blinding lights and figure out what the _cabbage_ is going on.

Lavender eyes force themselves open. Light blinds her, as she expected, but Judy blinks away the stringing pain to shift into a sitting position and glance downwards.

Red fur. Red fur, with creamy patches, and black-tipped ears and claws _—_ _CLAWS!—_ and fangs sticking out from the muzzle—the very wide muzzle bigger than her _whole head_ —and a long bushy tail.

When her brain processes the species, Judy opens her mouth to scream—

And vomits all over the bare fox, who in turn wakes up from where he had been laying his head on her lap, and starts shrieking and barking shriller than a hyena.

Unbeknownst to both mammals, they think the same thought in tandem.

_Fuck._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Judy can't decide on a course of action because prioritizing between cleaning her throw-up, escaping the bathtub, dressing herself, or beating the shit out of the pervert scrambling in panic is nigh impossible.

Screams, from her and the strange fox, echo around them and barricade her sensitive ears. They try to scramble away from one another, but between the throw up and the post-alcohol-addled brains, their awkward, fumbling limbs keep slipping and sliding with one another. Maybe someday in the future (the very, _very_ distant future), Judy will laugh this off and have a great one-up drunken tale to tell her siblings.   
  
At the moment, though, she kind of hopes that lightning will strike down on her in this bathroom and kill her. It would make the aftermath so much easier. No Bogo to argue with her over the Missing Mammals case. No humiliating meter maid uniform and scathing remarks from citizens every day. No arranged marriage setup by her parents—  
  
In their awkward flailing, she freezes and allows her body slide into a horizontal position in the tub. Shit. The arranged marriage. Did...did they...her fiancée...  
  
The fox must note her change in demeanor, because he halts in his panic and stops barking. They stare at one another in silence, his eyes wide in shock and hers twitching with anxiety.   
  
"Oh my god..." she murmurs at first, the picks up volume, "oh my god, oh my god, OH MY GOD—"

As an afterthought, Judy realizes she's stark naked and that the fox is literally _ogling_ her bare body.

"WOULD YOU STOP STARING AT ME?"

The fox gags before shouting back, "S _TARING_ AT YOU? YOU JUST _THREW UP_ ON ME!"  
  
"Owowowow, my _ears_ , you dumb fox, my _ears_.”  
  
"Oh sorry, _sweetheart,_ let me sympathize with your ears while _COVERED IN YOUR UNPROCESSED ALCOHOL_."  
  
"I am too hungover for this," she mutters to herself in a crazed fashion, pressure pounding behind her temple, "I am too hungover for this, I am too hungover for th—"  
  
"Live up to the stereotype much, _you’re not even dressed_."  
  
She gaps at the fox still tangled with her limbs. "YOU'RE ONE TO TALK, YOU PERVERT!"  
  
"Please, between the both of our species, which one is known for having _excessive_ mating drives and reproducing kits faster than getting off of one another."  
  
Oh. No. He did _not_. Before her brain can warn against the action that’s going to cause a jolt of pain to course through her, Judy suspends him in the air with both her large feet and kicks him— _hard_ —so that he flies out of the bathtub and _far away_ from her. His back collides into the sink's counter and knocks over expensive, decorative vases and antiques, which promptly shatter after impacting the floor.

_Crap. Someone’s going to have to pay for that later. And it sure as hell ain’t gonna be me._

The fox groans in pain and slips down to the floor in a huddled position. For a brief moment, the fox looks… _innocent_ , with his dazed and incoherent expression.

A very, very, _very_ brief moment.  
  
"Holy sh—THE HELL WAS THAT? What are you, some circus freak?"  
  
Insecurity about her naked body leaves to make room for anger. She stands up—

And slips back down onto her knees, forgetting that hangovers do not allow for smooth movement and that there is still a migraine rampaging around her head. Ugh. So much for the intimidation tactic.

She points an accusing finger at him from inside the tub. "Don't you _ever_ presume anything about me _again_ , you speciest hooligan!"  
  
" _Hooligan_ ," he snarks, rolling his eyes. "Let me guess, part of the Paw Patrol squad?"

Judy clenches her fists. "No. Part of the _real_ police force actually."

The fox snorts, now standing up. “Right. And I’m Buck Norris.”

Only five minutes have passed since meeting this fox, and Judy is pretty sure she has never felt so offended and indignant in her life. _Cripes_ , what an _ass hole_. Coming from a meter maid who hears malicious comments from overpaying citizens on a daily basis, that says a lot.

“No,” she seethes, trying in vain to not twitch an eye while he observes his claws with a disinterested look, “it’s true. Mayor Lionheart assigned me to Precinct One himself.”

The fox actually reacts at that, turning his gaze upward to meet her eyes.  The statement sinks in, judging by his wide eyes. Then—

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

…

…

…

He. Literally. Rolls on the floor. Laughing.

"HAHAHAHA! _A bunny cop_? Oh, you _really_ must've outdrank yourself last night!"

The dumb fox pounds his fist against the floor tiles, his tongue sneaking out of his muzzle and panting with how much guffaws escape his body. The action causes an incensed rant to spring up in her in throat and prepare to launch—

Except glints of gold catch her eye and Judy freezes, noting that the glittery sparkles comes from the fox's...ring...finger...

Several realizations hit Judy with the slowness of a sloth and the weight of a rhino-sized dump truck.

1) The fox she had sex with last night is married.

2) The fox she _had sex_ with last night is _married_.

3) _The. Fox. Is. Married._  

This, in turn, leads to two other conclusions.

1) Judith Hopps, who has sworn by her morals all her life and vowed to make the world a better place, is now a certified home wrecker.

2) This fox went to Vegas and _cheated on_ his wife. His wife, who could be at home right now cooking food and waiting with the kits and wondering _'oh hm wonder where my lifetime committed husband is_ ' while HE IS ARGUING WITH HIS MISTRESS NAKED IN A HOTEL IN VEGAS.

This whole scenario is all sorts of _wrong wrong wrong_ and before she can gain control of her fury, Judy hops over the tub, stalks over to the rolling fox, and grips him by his chest fur.

Of course, he thinks it's a joke. "So is this whole pred-prey thing one of your weird bunny sexual fantasies, or have you always had a secret kink?”

Grinding her teeth, the bunny pulls him to his feet with a harsh strength, ceasing his mirth-filled laughter and bringing out yowls of pain instead. He backs away from her rapidly, rubbing his chest with a gentle claw.

"I hope you're not on steroids too, Carrots, because if so I'm going to have to report you to the Chief of Paw Patrol—"

"Judy."

He blinks, the sarcasm fading for a moment. "What?"

"Judy," she states again with the calmest tone she can muster. "My name is not _Carrots_ or _Sweetheart_ or _Fluff_...it's Judy."

They stare at one another, curiosity in green and sternness in violet.

He scrutinizes her, rubbing a paw under his chin, "You know, the norm for one night stands, especially _interspecies_ one night stands, is to _not_ know one another's name by the time each party takes their leave and never sees one another again."

 _One night stand_. The familiar phrase hardens into a rock and settles in her chest, making Judy feel heavy. Heavy—with guilt, with shame, with self-loathing. Once she got accepted into the academy, Judy had exiled love and lust from her life, turning down bucks to avoid this exact scenario. High school was a place for her to be loose and careless, but in the real world, she wanted to meet “the one”. She wanted to save her love for someone special. She wanted to go on dates and take her time getting to know someone and to make love with the mammal that would accept her and make her feel comfortable with her body.

And then she had a one night stand with a married fox.

Granted, she can just blame him. Ignore her self-loathing and turn it into hatred for the fox. Except...that wouldn't be right. She partook in the sexual activity just as much as he did. Judy may not remember anything, but judging from the fluids that had existed between their bodies and the intimate embrace they had been in when she first awakened, this must have been consensual. Plus, her astute instincts tend to be spot-on, and she doesn't get "rapist" vibes from this fox, no matter how many sarcastic remarks tumble out of his mouth that make her want to break his tailbone. 

"Earth to Carrots?"

She sighs, ignoring the nickname for now. She brings a paw to rub at her forehead, despite that it does little to soothe the ache in her head and body. "Listen...I don't...I don't remember–"

"Well, yeah, that rolls along with _one night stand in Vegas_."

"Shut up!" she barks. "That's not what I'm getting at!"

Inhale, Judy. Ignore the smirk on the ass hole's face. He isn't worth an aggressive assault charge.

...

...okay. He's _almost_ worth an aggressive assault charge. _Almost._ It would be easy; he’d never expect it—never expect a little ol’ bunny to take her cutesy little paws _to strangle his freaking throat so that he can never make another sarcastic remark again—_

Focus, Judy, focus!

Once she calms down, enough to remove the annoyance and aggravation from her tone, the bunny states, "I'm assuming you don't remember what happened either. Which...is fine. But, at the very least, you should gather your dignity-" (assuming he has any) "-and tell your wife about our entanglement."

For a moment, he cocks his head at her, expression unreadable. Only a moment. Just as quickly as his expression turns neutral, it reverts back to his smug, knowing grin.

"My wife?" he repeats, body shaking and fur bristling. At first Judy assumes he's freaking out that she made the connection, that she figured out a detail of his personal life, but the shaking turns into chuckling which turns into full-on roaring laughter.

The fox. Is laughing. About cheating on his wife.

_Grapes of wrath—_

"Sweetheart, my wife already knows." He's staring at her now, emerald eyes glittering with mischief. The familiar look is cute in her siblings...but absolutely frightening in this fox.

"Considering you woke up when I woke up, and both of us are still standing in this bathroom, clearly you haven't called or texted—"

"Oh, no phone necessary, trust me on that one."

God damn—what is with his freaking _smirk_?

"Listen," she points a lecturing finger at him, "you see that ring on your finger? When you put that on, you made an oath to a vixen—"

"Did I marry a vixen? No. No I did not."

Oh. Well. Okay. So he's a gay fox. But, nevertheless—

"Fine. So you married another tod—"

"Am I gay? No. No I am not."

She swears his grin is getting smugger by the _second_.

She huffs, "Fine, so you're married to another mammal. Whoever or _whatever_ that mammal may be, you made an oath—"

"Fluff," he cuts off, "for someone who claims to be part of Paw Patrol, you're missing a glaringly _obvious_ detail."

He stalks toward her, predatory eyes gleaming with...she doesn't know what. But whatever it is, her already-hungover insides squirm with a new feeling. Not disgust, not discomfort, but...something else. Something alien. New. Foreign.

In a pathetic attempt to fight the tingling sensation, Judy backs away from him, trying to instill her "bad cop" voice. "That detail being..."

Back up against the wall, she has nowhere else to go. The fox leans in close, leaving no room for personal space. His nose hovers right before her own, his arms reach up to cage her in. His eyes, though, pierce right through her, intent and devious and so god damn _smug_.

He murmurs in her ear, "That's not a wedding ring for myself and any other mammal.”

On top of the already horrible decisions Judy has made thus far in her career, she for some reason doesn't shove him away, beat him up, and run out of the hotel room nakedness-be-damned. Instead, her mouth goes dry and she surrenders the burning feeling between her legs; allows it to happen, lets the desire whisper back to him, "It's not?"

He's so close to her ear now, she can feel a smirk curving onto his cheek. "No. This wedding ring?

“It’s _ours_.”


	3. Chapter 3

“You—liar! You’re lying!”

She ducks out from under his arm and puts distance between the two of them, panting and eyes wide. Oxygen can’t reach her brain fast enough because she’s feeling faint and dizzy again and _dammit_ she can’t pass out now. Not when there’s a delusional fox eying her like she just escaped the insane asylum.

In retrospect, after the past 24 hours, she wouldn’t be surprised if she ended up there.

He breaks off the stare to roll his eyes. “Wow. Stereotyping _the fox_ , huh? Tell me, if we’re not married, then why do you _have the same exact ring on your finger?_ ”

Lavender eyes glance down hoping to not see—

—the golden ring that is very much there, very much real, and very much identical to the one on the fox.

Little spasms and twitches run through her ears. This is bad. This is really bad. The future and hope of the Hopps family farm rides solely on Judy to commit to the arrangement, the one she herself had signed and suggested in the first place.

Damn wills and their _conditions_.

In an attempt to not self-induce a heart attack, Judy directs the focus back to him. “H-How are you so c-calm about this anyway?”

Bastard, with a capital B, chuckles, cocking a paw on his hip while smiling at her with false innocence. “Me? Why wouldn’t I be happy to spend the rest of my life with my wonderful, _charming_ hunbun of a wife?”

Judy glares at him with a deadpan look.

He sighs and loses the confidence and smug stature. “Although if you must know, I happen to be a mammal of many connections. Including family law judges and mammals on the inside that can easily make it so that we never married to begin with. Problem solved.”

“Problem solved? We _slept together_. We _got married_. It’s not that simple, Slick! How the hell am I supposed to explain this to my parents?”

“Your _parents_? How old are you, twelve? Just don’t tell them!”

Oh, how she wishes. Judy deflates, trembling. “I don’t have a choice.”

He sneers at her, the expression mildly disturbing with the sharp canines on display. “You’re being more melodramatic than Meredith Prey.”

“First of all, I’m not going to question the fact that you just referenced _Prey’s Anatomy_. Secondly, it’s, well, it’s just really complicated, okay?”

“ _Prey’s Anatomy_ is the heart and soul of good television. And probably a lot more complicated than your half-cooked excuse.”

Bit by bit, anger stews in her, threatening to boil over. Logic dictates she has no reason to be frustrated with him, especially since, coming from his perspective, she _does_ seem overdramatic and she _does_ seem to be making pathetic excuses. Still—

“It’s not an excuse. I won’t be able to hide this.”

“Do you still live with them?” he asks.

She blushes, ears drooping. “Well, no, I live in Zootopia.”

“Oh, splendid, because I just so happen to _also_ live in Zootopia. And your parents live where? Some small, country hillbilly town far away from the city?”

He must think she’s an idiot. Which, by all means, she kind of is, but not because of her refusal to follow his line of logic.

Judy tries to explain, “They live in Bunnyburrow, but I’m going to _have_ to visit at some point and they’re going to find out about this marriage, and then I’m probably going to be disowned and at fault for causing several heart attacks in the family.”

The fox rolls his eyes. “Listen, give me a few months, and I’ll have this marriage cleared up.”

Months. _Months_. Any hope of the fox’s so-called “connections” might as well be shot down with a cannon into the deep sea.

Judy insists, “That’s too long, this marriage needs to be annulled _now_. Right away, no time gaps.”

“Don’t you know anything about marriage?” Agitation creeps through the cracks in his broken mask, darkening his eyes and replacing his smirk with a scowl. “Divorce and annulment don’t happen overnight, _especially_ if we do it the underground way.

“Besides,” he continues, his tail lashing left-and-right behind him, “what’s the big deal? We ignore each other for a couple months until the paperwork goes through and _viola!_ No more marriage.”

“It’s not that simple!” she asserts, foot thumping on the tile.

“What is your deal anyway?” he accuses, pointing a claw at her chest. “Is your close-minded brain unable to accept divorce? Because let me tell ya sweetheart, most marriages these days end up in—“

“ _I’M SUPPOSED TO BE IN AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE.”_

Silence ensues, disrupted only by Judy’s harsh breathing. All the cockiness sags out of his frame, leaving behind a befuddled and shocked fox.

“Wait,” he holds up a paw, staring at her with wide eyes, “hold up. You’re _engaged_?”

Shameful, she looks over to the wall while tracing tentative circles on the floor. His shock doesn’t last long, however, because the fox belts out harsh chuckles and slaps his knee in sardonic humor. “And to think you’re arguing with _me_ about _cheating_.”

Teeth biting at her lip, Judy tries to conjure a comeback and keeps falling short. As loathe as she is to admit it, the fox is right. Who is she, the biggest hypocrite of all, to criticize and freak out on _him_ when he technically hasn’t done anything wrong?

“It’s complicated,” she mutters again, feeling pathetic and so unlike her usual self.

“Complicated my ass. Tell me if this story sounds familiar: Rebellious, _stupid_ bunny gets forced into an arranged marriage by her overbearing and conservative parents—”

“ _No one_ makes me _do anything._ My parents have nothing to do with it.”

“Then how—“

“It’s none of your business, okay?” she shouts, shaking and bristling and wanting to throw up all over again. “I got myself into the god damn situation, and only I can get—“

She freezes, a tantalizing idea forming in her mind.

“Get…myself…out…of…it…” she trails off, blinking in wonder. Wait a minute. Wait. A. Minute.

The fox stares at her with a worried expression. “Carrots? I’m really not digging the creepy smile on your face right now.”

She registers him speaking but there are other thoughts distracting her. A plan brews in her mind; an insane, _absolutely ridiculous_ plan.

See, the funny thing about wills and inheritance is that relatives can issue _conditions._ Conditions like, “I will pass down my property should my children only plant carrots”. Conditions like, “I will transfer my funds to my nephew if he uses it for college purposes only”.

Or, in Judy’s case, “ _I will pass down everything under my name to my eldest grandchild if she is of age and married.”_

And, well, Grandpappy Hopps owned the entire farm and produce business. Not to mention _a lot_ of money; money that could be put towards, hypothetically, _a new apartment_ or _actual food._ Money that can provide for Judy’s 200+ siblings, all of which need food and an education and a home to live in.

Money that can be theirs. _Should she get married_.

Judy herself had thought of the arranged marriage. She couldn’t turn down the opportunity simply because her grandfather had weird, quirky ways of enforcing his conservative beliefs on her. Against her will or not—money was money. Turning it down would result in losing the business and going bankrupt. She could survive (barely) off a police officer’s salary in the city, but her family at home? They’d be _screwed_.

So her parents, per her request, found her a buck. They signed papers. The insurance company promised to hand over everything in Grandpappy’s will to Judy as soon as she got hitched. At the time, that was her only option. Agreements like that can’t be broken or erased, especially in a conservative, strict county like Bunnyburrow. Cities like Zootopia and Paws Vegas may show more leniency in marital matters, but her hometown takes it very seriously, to the point that divorce is nearly as taboo as committing a crime.

Arranged marriages _can,_ however, be cancelled out or overruled if one of the mammals gets into a different marriage. Say, for example, a shotgun Vegas wedding with a particular fox. One who supposedly has likely-illegal connections that can rid of the marriage later down the line, and get Judy out of being in any sort of marital binding contract at all, _plus_ avoiding all the legal and financial issues at home.

She breaks out into a grin.

“You know,” she says, “I can’t get married to another mammal if I’m already married to you.”

The fox (she really needs to figure out his name) blinks, mouth working itself into disturbed grimace. “Excuse me?”

“You. Me. We’re married. Which means I can’t marry the buck I was originally stuck with.”

She’s all sly now, the previous distress gone in favor of this reassuring conviction that, somehow, this can actually _work_.

Judy continues, ideas popping into her head and spiraling into a giant conglomerate of plans, “All we need to do is convince my family and hometown we’re in love. That way no one will find out how drunk I was _and_ I get off the hook for bailing out of the arrangement.”

No humiliation necessary. If her and this fox can put on a good act, her parents will believe that she fell in love and that she _had_ to break the arrangement. She won’t be a disgrace to her family, nor will she get in legal or financial trouble for breaking the treaty she herself had signed off on. Ultimately, all she needs to do is stick around with the fox for a few months, receive her grandfather’s inheritance, then wait patiently until their marriage is erased from history.

“Judy.”

Deep in thought, she ignores the fox’s statement, rambling out loud. “Maybe I can stay at your place or maybe you can stay at my place. Doesn’t matter. We’ll meet up a few times a week and go on pretend dates so my parents will see you on MuzzleTime. We’ll rehearse some believable backstory and come up with nicknames and stuff so we look ridiculously in love. Sex is already out of the way so we smell like each other, which will be evidence enough. The guys at the station will probably call me a predophile, but that’s not the worst—“

“WHOA!” he exclaims, halting Judy from her tangent. “Listen, who said anything about me agreeing to this?”

Her veins freeze as though there’s ice running through them. “But…but we—“

“Yeah, we’re married, but I owe _nothing_ to you. You must honestly be out of your mind if you think I’m going to pretend to be deliriously in love with you for some whacked up conspiracy.”

 Shit. Shit shit _shit_. Judy scrambles for an excuse for him to stay, her mouth hacking up incomprehensible stutters. She has too much dignity to confess about a drunken wedding. Much less a drunken wedding to a _fox_. Not to mention how much trouble and debt she could land herself in. There has to be something to convince him, or some sort of benefit he could get out of this.

“Money!” she exclaims. “I can offer you a large sum and we can even save a lot on taxes if—“

“I don’t pay taxes and I’m not that desperate for money.”

Damn it. Not that this piece of information is exactly surprising given what she’s witnessed of his character so far, but her hope of bribing him with money is out.

He sighs, a paw rubbing down his face. Judy hadn’t noticed before, but the fox looks really tired. The type of exhaustion that darkens fur around the eyes and causes mammals to slump over. She wonders if maybe he’s still hungover too, despite his level-headedness. High tolerance or not, he _did_ marry a bunny last night, so he can’t be _completely_ in good health at the moment.

In an almost-apologetic voice, he says, “Listen, I get that you’re humiliated by all of this. And honestly, I can’t imagine explaining this to my mother. But there’s _no way in hell_ I’m following you around Zootopia and putting on some façade. That requires time and effort, both of which I have a short supply of.”

Judy grinds her teeth while her paws fiddle with each other in anxious motions. Her voice wobbles as she admits, “If my home finds out that this was an accident, my family is at risk for losing their farm, their livelihood. I’ll have to quit my dream of being a cop, and I’ll dishonor the Hopps name. _Please_ , can you roll along with it? Just until we fix it?”

His shoulders loosen, while his emerald eyes look at her with a strange glint. If she peers hard enough, she thinks she can find empathy in his orbs, some strange understanding floating in their depths.

The moment doesn’t last. All too soon he slips into his snarky persona, scoffing at her and turning away to stare at himself in the bathroom mirror. “I can’t help you. I’m sorry.”

Before she can protest, he swipes something off the sink’s counter and hands her a plain, white business card with a lone name and number on it:

 

_Nicholas P. Wilde.  
(547)-833-9854_

 

Nicholas Wilde. That’s his name. Odd, it tingles in the back of her mind, part of a memory she can’t remember.  _Nicholas Wilde…where have I heard that before?_

“I’ll keep you updated on the progress,” he states, short and curt. The fox’s—Nick’s—eyes refuse to meet hers while he walks past her and into the connecting master bedroom.

“That’s it?” she calls out to him, voice filled with scorn. “You’re just going to walk away and pretend like none of this matters, consequences be damned?”

“Essentially.”

As Nick leaves her there, it suddenly dawns on Judy that she’s stark naked.

She just fought with a fox. _While naked_. She was physically cornered by a fox. _While naked_. Not to mention the bits of vomit caking her fur, or the fact that said fox _was mutually bare_.

If Judy survives this ordeal physically and mentally intact, she really needs to attend therapy.

Ears drooping against her back in surrender, the bunny sulks in after him, steadfastly avoiding eye contact and seeking out her clothes from last night. She spots a sheer, v-neck one piece hanging off a coat hook on the room’s door and decides to start there. At the very least, there’s no puke on it, so there’s a small hope that maybe passing mammals won’t notice the substance stuck in her fur.

In her peripheral vision, she notes Nick glancing at her. Concern crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and she wonders to herself if, maybe, he actually feels guilty for putting her in this position.

Awkwardness permeates the air as Judy searches for the thong and miniskirt next. Even without looking at him, she can feel the fox’s stare from across the room, boring into her back. She tries to ignore the creepy tingling at her neck and peeks under the bed.

“Your, uh, skirt and underwear are over here, actually.”

His voice startles her and brings her back into a standing position, stiffness entering her limbs. From across the room, Nick offers the bottoms in his paws, his muzzle turned in the opposite direction in some poor attempt to be modest.

Judy scowls. “You might as well look. Not like you haven’t seen it before.”

Bitterness tinges the bite in her words. One of Nick’s ears flicks back, though the rest of his body remains neutral. He doesn’t move from his position.

Judy walks over to him and swipes at her clothes, putting them on at a rapid pace. When she finishes, a bunch of different thoughts start to prod at her. Thoughts like _where’s Fru_ and _when are we being kicked out_ and _what the hell am I going to do I am so screwed I am **dead** my family is going to lose everything and it’s all my fau—_

Nick’s muttering interrupts her mental tangent. “For what it’s worth, I do remember what happened last night.”

Shock grips her lungs in a chokehold. The words halt any rational thought, and Judy finds herself listening with eagerness for more elaboration. He _remembered_? He knows how it happened?

“And I-we had a good time. Drunk me really liked you. As a mammal.”

The blackness occupying her memory tempts her to wrangle out more information. It’s more than frustrating to not recall _a single damn thing_. Judy would like to at least know how they even hit it off. Did he initiate it? Did they flirt with each other? Was there dancing involved? So many questions, and Nick…Nick could maybe…

 _No_. Logic halts the thought. Dwelling on the past will make the situation worse and add to the weight of her mortification. She’s better off not knowing.

She responds with a glum sigh and proceeds to gather any belongings she can scout out. Phone: dead, but check. ID: sticky, but also check. Purse and wallet: double check. Money: gone, most likely spent on way too much alcohol – 

(or a ring)

– but Judy knows she’ll be fine for the month in terms of bills. She only brought what she could afford to spend, after all, and her credit card was intentionally left at home.

Plus, she has a feeling Fru will compensate the finances anyway, considering this whole trip was the shrew’s idea.

“Since you’re clearly still ignoring me, I suppose I’ll bid you adieu until those judges cash me in my favor. Catch ya later, sweetheart.”

Judy fiddles with her blunt claws and struggles not to swivel around and watch him go. She wants to, _oh,_ how she wants to. But she refuses to seem weak in front of him, refuses to glimpse his annoying smirk and condescending expression.

When the hotel door shuts, the echoing _click_ finalizing his disappearance, Judy slinks to the ground and folds up into a fetal position. Within seconds tears pool in her eyes, and she lets herself release a hollow, desperate sob.

It takes one hour for her to cry. A half hour to gather the energy to plug her phone in the charging station of the room. Another half hour to muster up her dignity and call the first speed-dial on her contact list.

“Fru? Hey, it’s me and, no, I’m not okay.”

* * *

 Nick knows he’s an ass hole.

He’s not particularly proud of the fact, but he’s also not shameful. Considering how much bull shit he puts up with from other mammals on a daily basis, he kind of has a right to dole out the dickish-ness to others. _Especially_ prey—who most of the time are a part of the upper-class snobs in Zootopia that will create any excuse to get a predator arrested or in trouble.

Point is, he’s accepted his lot in life a while ago. If other mammals only want to see the stereotype, then might as well act the part, right? It’s not as though being _kind_ and _honest_ will change anyone’s mind about him, nor get him far in his hustler business. Given that hustling is the only thing he’s _good_ at and can make a profit from, it’s pretty much necessary for his survival.

Still. As much justification he has for his actions, as much as he knows that none of this is his fault and that’s it all fair in the grand scheme of things, he feels…cruddy.

“How’s was gettin’ lucky with the bunbun?”

Finnick certainly doesn’t help the guilt, not when he talks about Judy like that.

“Good,” he lies, “definitely a pleasant _experiment_. Not sure if I’d do it again, but could have been worse.”

The fennec stares him down in a way that he knows his statement doesn’t sound believable.

“Cut the crap, Wilde. You can’t fake being disappointed when your afterglow is so strong you actually look _innocent._ ”

“Pfft. A fox? Innocent?”

Nick tries to laugh it off in a derisive attempt to end the conversation, but Finn just keeps staring at him. He doesn’t even know why he’s bothering to try to fool him—even through the best poker faces, Finnick can read _anybody_. Including Nick. Especially Nick.

Finn grumbles, “Stop playin’ me. You have fun or nah?”

Releasing a sigh, Nick stares out the diner’s window, overlooking an extensive boardwalk and gorgeous, clear ocean waves. It’s definitely the nicest diner he’s been in, compared to the ones in Happy Town that he typically frequents. For all the crazy party animals that come to the hotel for its night clubs, it attracts a lot of tourists with its restaurants and shops to visit during the day.

“Nicky.”

He snaps out of his musings and faces his best friend with reluctance. Now or never. Finnick doesn’t have a lot of patience and will only become more irritable the longer this conversation drags out.

 “I…we accidentally made love.”

“I couldn’t tell from your erection last night.”

“ _NO,_ I mean—ugh—Finn, we didn’t fuck.”

Finn blinks. “Oh. Well, shit.”

“Yeah.”

He mulls over that for a while before asking, “Did you knot her?”

“No. I did something worse.”

Nick flaunts the ring on his finger, and for a moment, he witnesses shock cross Finnick’s face.

“Nicky. _No_.”

“Nicky. _Yes._ ”

“You’re a moron.”

“I know.”

“You’s is gonna have to waste your favor now.”

Nick sighs again. “I _know_ , Finn.”

Finnick halts the interrogation for a bit, thoughtfully chewing on his scrambled eggs. Nick eyes his own plate for a moment before deciding not to risk throwing up his food. Five-star hotels mean top-shelf alcohol, and despite Nick’s relatively high tolerance, even he still feels iffy from the night before.

“We should leave soon,” Finn mutters, glancing at the hotel’s security guards at the front doors. “Bad enough we snuck the key cards last night. Surprised no one’s suspected us yet.”

“I’ve been getting some looks,” Nick admits, watching the guards in his peripheral vision. “At least, when I came back to the room.”

Finn snorts. “Cuz you didn’t shower yet. Dumb-ass.”

“Not my fault the bunny couldn’t hold her liquor!” Nick protests.

“Your fault for being stupid enough to get puked on in the first place.”

Nick merely grumbles in response and eyes the guards again. “Make our exit in 3?”

“In 5. Grub’s good.”

Nodding in response, Nick looks out the window again. He wonders if Judy is out there, on the boardwalk, enjoying the rest of her “girls-weekend” that she told him about last night. Or maybe she’s pacing in the hotel room still, contemplating how to get out of the situation she landed herself in. Maybe she’s already called her friend up, or maybe she’s in the middle of confessing to her parents about her wacky marriage. Will she lie about his species? Or just admit to it before they possibly find out through public record?

The part of him that isn’t so jaded, that actually empathizes with the bunny and looks back on their night together with a certain degree of fondness, wonders if Judy will be okay.

_“No, Nick, really, I get you!” the bunny slurred, sensually swaying her hips so that her tail grinded against his crotch and caused every rational thought left in his drunken mind to flee to a certain area below his pant buckle. “I, I get judged too, for my job. Like, I just wanna save mammals, and make, like, a difference, but nooooo. I’m just a cute little bunny, and it’s too dangerous for me to help. Ugh, it sucksssss.”_

_It was miracle he could still hear her, given the blaring music and loud bass thrumming through his body and ringing in his ears. Warm, warm, **warm—** god, he had never felt this…bubbly and buzzy and peppy and—just— **nice**. _

_Dropping his muzzle to her neck, he flicked his tongue against the fur there, noting how her dancing lost its rhythm for a moment before picking back up again, with more fervor._

_“Nick,” she moaned, just loud enough for him to hear. He interpreted that as his cue to continue licking that area, nibbling lightly as he went._

_“I haven’t done this in a while,” Judy panted and exposed her neck more to him. As he ventured over the new territory, she snuck a paw behind her and gripped—_

_He almost buckled over from the sensation._

_“For someone claiming to have hit a dry spell, I’d say you’re pretty good at this,” he managed to get out without moaning or making some other kind of embarrassing sound. Good **god** was this bunny **talented**. _

_Judy tugged his ear down and lifted herself up on her hind paws. Breath hot and ragged against his ear, she countered, “ **Pretty good**? That’s it?”_

_The fox let himself grin, starting to thrust forward into her backside and subtly bringing one of his paws up her skirt. As his paw wandered, he sheathed his claws so that the tips gently grazed her fur, and he felt more than saw the rabbit tense up._

_Though, judging from her sultry smirk, it wasn’t out of fear._

_“You’re the first prey to want me like… **this** ,” he emphasized the last word by jabbing his finger through her panties with one hand, and using the other to play with her fluffy tail. He delighted hearing her moan again, not even caring about the looks of disgust coming from the other partygoers, nor the fact that he was a fox and she was a bunny. What was better, **she didn’t care either**. She didn’t care he was a fox, didn’t care about his hustles, and had even heard him out on his father’s abandonment and issue with the junior ranger scouts._

_Most of all, **she understood**._

_“And you’re the first mammal to…to want me back. Even though I’m weird,” she giggled, her tail curling and moving in what Nick assumed to be pleasure. A heat flared in his chest, tempting him to just **take her** , here and now. He needed to see her without clothes on. He needed her to understand how much he appreciated her empathy and sympathy, how much he appreciated that she saw past the mask and wasn’t ashamed of what lied beneath. He needed to make her **really** moan and forget about all the douchebag exes who could never appreciate her passion for her career, who didn’t appreciate her toned, muscular body and her sleek, soft fur. _

_“Normal mammals are boring anyway,” Nick insisted._

_Suddenly, she spun around and wrapped her arms tightly around his midsection, all the while staring up at him with bright, imploring lavender orbs._

_With a watery smile, she murmured, “We would make a cute couple.”_

_“You know what they say,” he teased. “Opposites attract.”_

“Shit.”

Gasping, Nick startles out of the memory, thankful that his red fur hides the blush he can feel crawling up his cheeks.

“Nicky, do _not_ look behind you. We need to leave. Stat.”

Nick blinks in confusion, still thrown off from the daydream. “What is it? Security?”

“Worse,” Finn mutters, eyes glancing past Nick’s shoulder.

He contemplates what could possibly be worse than a security guard catching them and pressing criminal charges, but something about Finn’s rigid and anxious stature assures Nick that, whatever it is, it’s _very_ bad. Bad enough to ruffle the fur of a fox that has grown up in the most decrepit part of the ghetto, and has seen bloodshed and gang bangs throughout his life.

Nick demands, “Tell me.”

“If I do, you’ll freak out and draw more attention.”

The red fox raises an eyebrow. “It takes a lot to crack me.”

“I’m aware.”

Nick stands up to exit the booth, and Finn hisses at him, “ _Don’t. Move._ ”

“Tell me what’s going on!” Nick hisses back, standing in place and refusing to sit down.

Finn glances around Nick’s shoulder again and sighs heavily. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Nick opens his mouth to protest—

—and is interrupted by an enormous, white-furred paw, which clamps around his muzzle and neck while another winds around his body and squeezes the air out of his lungs.

“Nicholas Wilde,” a deep, heavily-accented voice growls out. “Mr. Big is not pleased with you.”


	4. The Actual, Real Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems I added the incorrect chapter. *Shrugs* Oops

One would think that mob bosses would at least  _ try  _ to be discreet with their violent methods of punishment in public. During daylight hours. Around masses of mammals in a largely-popular hotel.

Maybe they’re being paid to ignore it. Maybe the patrons think it’s part of a show. Or, most likely, maybe no one is brave enough to say anything about it, nor do they really care to protect a middle-aged no-good fox hustler in exchange for their life.

Whatever the case, Nick’s convinced karma is in on some giant conspiracy against him. 

“Finnick. Good to see you.”

Despite the kind words, Kevin’s paws tighten their hold on Nick, cutting off his circulation further.

“Uh. Likewise,” Finnick mutters, for once keeping his big mouth shut and nodding respectfully. Anyone involved with Big always put the former gang-member on edge, and Nick had always wondered if there was some sort of history between the fennec and shrew. 

The polar bear rumbles behind him, “We borrow Nicholas for now. Please, enjoy rest of meal.” 

Part of Nick wants Finn to stand up for him, or at least protest in some sort of way against his obvious capture and (probably impending) death. The other, far more rational side of Nick knows that one alive fox is better than none; regardless of Finnick’s intentions, interfering with Big business is a guaranteed death wish. 

The animals surrounding the group pay the interaction no mind, aside from a few fleeting glances here and there. Even as Kevin keeps his paws around Nick and starts to walk out of the diner, the stares are minimal. On their way out, the tiger security guards positioned by the exit offer a knowing nod to the polar bear, and the whole ordeal sends a bought of anxiety through Nick’s chest. His heart hammers in tune to Kevin’s heavy footsteps as he travels through the building, seemingly headed towards the West Wing of the hotel.

It doesn’t escape Nick’s notice that, in this Wing specifically, there appear to be hardly any mammals present.

“You have balls for coming to hotel run by Boss,” Kevin commented, a strange lightness in his tone despite the severity of the situation. “And for stealing key cards. Are you suicidal fox?”

At this point, suicide doesn’t sound like a horrible suggestion. Not that Nick can vocalize this. He wishes he could at least mention about his unawareness of Big’s involvement with the place. Really, it had been a spur-of-the-moment trip to celebrate his and Finn’s heavy haul from a well-strategized hustle one day. They hadn’t even researched hotels in advance—the two foxes took a road trip, following Zoogle Maps, and selected the fanciest, most expensive-looking hotel in sight, which happened to be the “The Golden Hoof.”

Go figure.

Kevin continues in wake of Nick’s silence, “Don’t think boss forgot about skunk-butt rug either.”

If Nick could move his facial muscles, he would be wincing in sheepishness. 

Traversing more and more distance, the pair eventually reach a completely-deserted hall, with numerous staircases leading in all different directions. Though well-decorated like the rest of the hotel—elegant red carpet, golden chandeliers hanging from the ceiling—Nick spots how immaculate and neat this section is, meaning there must not be many passersby who come through here.

Kevin reads his mind. “Restricted area. Only certain mammals allowed through.”

Gulping, Nick can only stare in silence. 

“Don’t worry. We will make sure friend receives invitation to funeral.”

Nausea forms in the pit of his stomach at the insinuation. He shoots his eyes around the room, trying to spot some sort of exit or detour out of this one-way trip. Hustlers always prepare for life or death situations, given the risk of the profession, but somehow experiencing the real thing in no way compares for the mock scenarios. Nick may be a calm, collected individual, but even he has his limits. 

The abrupt urge to live is both unwelcome and uncalled for. 

“Almost there,” Kevin assures, directing towards a staircase leading upward. His hold loosens somewhat, though not enough for Nick to have any chance of escape. In short time, they arrive at a set of gold-plated double-doors, with intricate designs and jewels accenting the layout. This door probably costs more than what Nick could make pulling hustles for an entire lifetime. 

Letting go of Nick, Kevin uses his one free paw to push the doors open, stepping inside to a giant study housing a group of polar bears standing in formation. Though unseen, Nick knows Big must be in the room somewhere, either in someone’s paws or hidden behind the massive figures.

Sure enough—

“Well, well, Nicky. How fate has brought us together again.”

The voice emanates from the center of the room. Two bears in front of the circle shuffle outward, drawing Nick’s attention to the tiny chair and mammal propped up on a golden pedestal. 

Kevin releases him and Nick wastes no time in inhaling deep breaths of oxygen. Unable to speak yet, he stares at the small, older shrew ahead of him. Mr. Big hasn’t changed much since their last… _ interaction _ , though there seem to be more a few more grey hairs in his bushy eyebrows. Nick wonders if the physical change is due to mob business or natural aging.

“Sir,” Nick pants, still recovering from the chokehold, “this—this is a  _ big  _ misunderstanding—”

Big sighs, cutting the fox off with a raise of his paw. Without hesitation, Nick rushes forward to press feather-light kisses to the diamond rings on Big’s paws, afterward pulling away with a nervous grin. 

“Sir,” he tries again, voice nothing short of cordial, “I genuinely had no idea this was your hotel. Believe me, I would have never dared to even  _ glance  _ at this place if I had known you would be here.”

Big sighs again, and Nick starts sweating under his fur at the gesture. “Nicky. Recall for me, how did our last gathering end?”

Before Nick can respond, Big answers his own question, “It was Grandmama’s funeral. I had asked you for  _ one  _ favor. A favor to compensate for all I had done for you: to pay forward the home and shelter and food I had provided for you.”

“Sir—”

“A rug, Nicky. One rug. I requested a rug to bury Grandmama under. Grandmama, who baked you cannolis and pinched your cheeks. Grandmama, who paid for your mother’s apartment and convinced the giraffe to let her remain there, despite being a fox.”

“I really—”

“And you brought me a rug, Nicky. A rug made out of the fur…of a butt…of a skunk. A skunk-butt rug, for precious Grandmama. And now you come back into my life, my business, stealing key cards to the most expensive room in this hotel.”

Mr. Big pauses for a long period of silence.

“What did I tell you that grievous day, Nicky?”

Fighting to keep his voice from wavering, Nick admits, “That if we ever crossed paths again, you wouldn’t show mercy.”

“That’s right. And do I ever break my promises, Nicky?”

Kevin has his massive paw wrapped around Nick’s throat again, and lifts the fox off the ground. The rest blurs by him. Sudden hole in the floor. A cruel smirk on Big’s muzzle. Ice blocks and extremely cold water, so cold that the particles start to evaporate at room temperature, causing smoke to form. 

Fears grips him in its hold, choking him even worse than Kevin’s paw. No amount of charm or survival instincts can hustle him out of this. He’s going to die. He’s going to  _ actually die _ . By  _ freezing slowly to death _ . Like Jack Pawson from that cheesy  _ Zootanic  _ movie. 

Except this isn’t a movie—this is real life. Real life that is about to end.

Or, at least, be put on hold. 

“Oh Daaaaaaddyyyyy!” a shrill voice exclaims, causing everybody in the room to abruptly halt in place. “It’s time for our Sunday brunch!”

The strangling paw loosens around the fox, and he greedily gulps in larger breaths of air. 

Nick can’t tell if he wants to choke, laugh, or cry. Big has a  _ daughter _ ? A daughter whose voice sounds shriller than a squirrel kit inhaling helium and who apparently enjoys  _ Sunday brunch _ ?

She’s hidden from view, but Nick can hear a distasteful click sound from behind him. 

“Ugh—what did we say about  _ icing mammals in front of Judy?” _

Nick actually does choke now, eyes bulging from their sockets, though not from Kevin’s grip. Judy. Judy.  _ Judy _ . There are millions of Judys in the world. It’s a fairly common name. She can’t possibly mean…

“You  _ know  _ she’s a cop,” the high-pitched voice continues, causing Nick’s mind to whirl even faster. Wasn’t his bunny also on the police force, or so she claimed? “She doesn’t like being witness to illegal crime!”

Mr. Big sighs again, though this time he sounds more regretful than he does condescending. “Daddy has to, baby, Daddy has to.”

He can’t believe this. If the situation weren’t, you know,  _ life-threatening _ , Nick may have laughed hysterically and risked being suffocated.  _ Daddy? Baby?  _ From the same mammal who has caused mysterious disappearances and threatened the lives of many mammals of the Zootopian population?

Either this is all some sick, cosmic joke, or Nick is dreaming and this dream happens to be extremely realistic. 

“W—Wait,” a recognizable voice stutters out, taking Nick’s breath (or what’s remaining of it) away. “Turn him towards me.”

Up until this point, Nick had been rotated forward, dangling from Kevin’s paw over the pool of icy water, and facing away from the door and towards Mr. Big. After the shrew nods his assent to Kevin, the polar bear turns Nick around, allowing him to face—

_ God, can you hear me? Screw you.  _

Judy— _ his _ Judy, the one who he married last night and who threw up on him this morning and whose life he basically just ruined—watches him with unmasked horror in her eyes. Next to her stands another shrew who  _ must  _ be Mr. Big’s spawn. Same fur coloring, same muzzle proportion and shape. Though the female shrew has far less grey hairs and is adorned in modern, more casual clothes.

Silence settles over the group for a moment, and the atmosphere is even more awkward than it was a few hours ago when he left her alone in the suite. 

“Nicholas Wilde,” she murmurs, eyes wide and unblinking. “That’s how I knew your name. You were the one who brought a skunk-butt rug to Grandmother Big’s funeral.”

Wait, she knows about that too? God, what else does she know about? Hell, how  _ the fuck  _ is a  _ cop  _ in cahoots with a  _ mob boss _ ?

Mr. Big interrupts the moment, glancing with suspicion between fox and bunny. “You know this fox, Judy?”

A bright red blush blooms across Judy’s face. “Uh…”

“Wait a minute,” Big’s daughter gasps. “Wait just a minute. Are those  _ wedding rings _ ?”

Judy starts coughing uncontrollably. Kevin and the other polar bears stare intently between Nick and Judy, eyes trained on the aforementioned jewelry on each of their paws. Mr. Big hums in consideration, raising a calculating eyebrow at the room.

“Ohmygawsh, Judy, you didn’t tell me you were arranged to be with  _ Nicky!” _

Judy hacks louder and appears to choke on her saliva. Nick wonders how he isn’t dead yet, and if death would be easier to handle than this extremely bizarre situation.

The shrew starts bouncing in excitement now, her beaming face switching back and forth between Nick and Judy. “Ohmygawsh,  _ no way _ , what are the  _ chances  _ that you two would meet up at Daddy’s hotel all the way out in  _ Paws Vegas  _ by coincidence!”

Judy tries to intercept. “Well, that’s not exactly—”

“Kevin!” the shrew shrieks. “Put Nicky down at once! Look at the poor guy, he can’t breathe!”

Kevin hesitates until Mr. Big shares a meaningful glare with him. Grumbling somewhat, the bear takes his time in placing Nick on the floor, and slowly uncoils his paw from Nick’s body. Shaking, the fox struggles to stand in place without gulping down air or falling to the floor.

“Um, Fru-Fru, Mr. Big, can Nick—er, can my  _ fiancée _ and I have a…moment?”

Since Nick has known Big, he has never, not once, witnessed the shrew share such a warm, genuine smile as does in this moment, directed towards Judy. “Of course, child. You are as much family as blood relatives. Feel free to use the room next door.” 

Judy shoots the mob boss a grateful smile, walking over to grab Nick’s paw in a tight, painful grip. Though she hides it well, Nick can feel the anxiety and tension coming off her in waves, almost transferring from her body to his through the paw-to-paw contact. Without peeking at him, she continues the charade as she all but drags him to a door by one of the bookcases. Despite not being provided the order, the other polar bear, Raymond, quickly darts over to open the gigantum-sized door for the smaller mammals, offering a soft smile to the rabbit.

When Judy’s not looking, the polar bear bears his teeth as a clear warning to Nick. 

He tries not to wet himself at the sight of the large, sharp canines.

His mind scrambles to process the whole situation as the door shuts behind him and he and Judy are left in peace. She immediately lets go of his paws and turns to face him with a piercing stare. Though shaken moments ago, she seems to recover with ease when not in the presence of the Bigs and their bodyguards.

“Well, it seems I have two options here.” 

She breaks the silence first, nearly startling him.

“I can repay you the same kindness you showed me a few hours ago…” Sarcasm drips off the end of her statement. “What was the advice you gave me?  _ Catch ya later sweetheart? _ ”

Nerves prickle down Nick’s spine, escalating his heart rate and filling him with dread.

“Or...maybe…” A calculating gleam enters her violet eyes now, while her paw rubs her chin in thought. “We can help each other.”

Before he can so much as utter a word, she lunges across the space between them and grabs his tie, pulling him down to her level. Never, in his life, would he expect to feel the amount of fear in his core right now because of some tiny little bunny. 

“I have a plan,” she states, eyes narrowing into a glare. “We’re going to regroup with the Bigs outside. You’re going to follow my lead, do as I say, and pretend you’re an Oscar-worth actor and deliver the best god-damn performance in your life.

“And if you don’t,” Judy whispers, hot breath nudging in his ears, “that shrew out there is not going to give two shits about my job or morals, and kill you right in front of me. Game over for me  _ and  _ game over for you. Believe it or not, as much of a prick I think you are, I don’t want to watch you die. Hell, I don’t want to watch  _ anyone  _ die.”

She pulls away and crosses her arms.

“So what’s it going to be, Slick?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did add the correct version this time, I apologize for any confusion.
> 
> My status is still the same as before. Still not emotionally ready to be writing about romance when in the midst of getting over someone I truly fell in love with. Still have absolutely no free time to myself to relax and heal.
> 
> Thank you to those who give me either helpful advice, or provide encouraging words or compliments. It means a lot, and helps me find inspiration to continue writing this old thing, despite my dead writing muse.
> 
> If you don't like it, kindly take your business elsewhere and read a story you do enjoy. Better yet, write one yourself. I am posting this for free with no obligation. I owe you nothing, and I also am not forcing you to read through this.
> 
> There may be one relatively quick update in the near future. After that, expect sporadic updates, if any.


End file.
